Close Range
by unraveler
Summary: After a close call under misjudged circumstances, Mikaela finds herself indebted to the enemy.
1. enter the beatdown

A/N: w00t first fan fic. exciting only for some of us. us meaning me. XD anyway, please enjoy.

Mikaela's head snapped back from the brutal force of the hit. She stumbled a little because of her high heels and she could taste blood on her tongue. She hoped that none of her teeth were chipped. A hand snaked out and gripped her high ponytail, yanking on it hard enough to rip out small chunks. Another hand snapped out lightning quick and backhanded her cheek, causing her head to snap the opposite way her hair was being tugged.

A redhead and two blondes – Trent's friends' girlfriends who had recognized her fall from grace. Mikaela was pretty, rather smart and a gear head – she wasn't rich or high class. She was low class. She was of bad breeding. She was inferior and therefore had to be punished properly for trying to blend in with them by using Trent.

Mikaela had played the game long enough to know the rules. She knew that once you stopped going out with whoever the current god was, you were worst than fair game. You were the singular target and the longer you ran, the worse it got in the end. The games the boys played were nothing compared to the girls. Boys didn't hold senseless grudges for so long; the girls did and they were naturally vindictive. Girls would always remember and always hunt you down, no matter how small the folly.

Trent didn't even have to send out the wolves to get her – they smelled the wounded and ran them down.

Mikaela's toes were stamped on by a pointy stiletto and she screamed in pain, stumbled and hurt her left ankle.

Her folly? She hadn't known her place for a long time. Now, now she would be put back in her place in the food chain. She was probably lower than Sam currently, maybe lower than even Miles.

Mikaela fell to her side in the dry dirt when three hands grabbed her arm and threw her down. She remained where she was and bit her tongue to withhold the insult. The instinct to fight back, tear their earrings out of their ears and fight dirty was overwhelming. She knew better than to fight back. If she did show some backbone, it would be incentive to get those on Trent's outer circle involved as well.

Amber's, the blonde with green eyes and light tan skin, mouth brushed near her ear. "Don't try to be higher than what you are, skank." Her syrup sweet voice was venomous.

Mikaela coughed when someone kicked her midsection. The pointed toe of the heel would leave a bruise on her rib. Amber, or the other blonde who was wearing the same heels as her kicked her thigh, shoulder and arm. The two others joined in, yanking at her hair and snarling nasty names.

It was clear that Mikaela knew her place now, because she could hear them leaving slowly. The crunch of small rocks and sliding of dirt underneath designer heels faded away.

The girl curled up on herself and winced at the bruises, the scrapes and the hurt all over her. Mikaela lay there for a few moments, letting all the hurt soak in. She didn't know if she could move, or walk. She couldn't call Sam, because that would lead to a confrontation she was trying her damndest to prevent.

Gripping the fence behind her, she tugged at it, slowly sliding up in pain. She felt that the ankle she hurt was swelling and screaming at her in pain. She blinked back tears and painstakingly made her way to her pink scooter.

Mikaela took one look at her scooter and knew that they just wanted to be extra careful she remembered who she was – what she was.

She felt anger again – they popped the tires. She was going to have to walk it and her sorry body home. No one was at home and she didn't want to have Sam and Bumblebee pick her up when she looked like this. Questions would be raised, and Sam would be noble and confront Trent; making her suffering for naught.

Breathing in through her nose and out her mouth, she picked her scooter off the ground and started walking.

Walking her scooter home with a twisted ankle wasn't easy, she had to alternately limp and walk with her unhurt foot. She didn't bother to wipe the grime and sweat and blood from her face. Tranquility was just that in the late evenings – tranquil. No one except for maybe a stray Autobot or late night trucker would see her. It didn't matter.

She didn't know what time it was precisely since they'd stepped on her watch and crushed it. She figured it was probably a little later than six.

Mikaela stumbled in a pothole she didn't see with her injured ankle. "Son of a bitch!" she snarled when she went down. She fell on her bottom harshly and her scooter clanked to the side. She looked down at her ankle – swollen and purpled.

Once when she was five, she fell flat on her face and scraped her hands from running too fast. She'd started cry. Her mom, smoking a cigarette glanced at her before returning to a Vogue magazine. Her dad had squatted down in front of her. "What's up pup?" he said with a smile.

She showed him the scrapes and hiccupped that she fell and it hurt. "Does crying make it fell better?" he asked, using a rag with oil stains on it to wipe her tears away. She shook her head. "Then stop."

She stopped, and it didn't feel any different than crying when he blew on her palms and put Beauty and the Beast Band-Aids on.

Mikaela had always kept what her daddy told that day in mind. If crying doesn't make it better than it's better to stop and find something that does.

Right now, after a shitty day of being ignored by the whole school and an oblivious friend with a transforming car and being beaten up she really felt like crying would make it all feel better.

Not crying so long over the years had only accumulated to the big explosion. Mikaela could feel when the first tear escaped, that it wasn't going to be one of those quiet, accepting lady-like cries. It was going to be painful, loud and dry.

Not many tears escaped but she ran her voice nearly hoarse with her gasping and hiccupping. Mikaela couldn't tell how long she just sat there on the side of the road slumped over her useless scooter. She didn't have a watch and being pent up so much, she forgot how late it had been before she started crying.

She needed to get home, and she knew it. After such a crappy day, she didn't want to have it all ticked off to get raped as the grand finale. Picking her body off of the ground, bloodied, bruises and torn and broken, she managed but only barely. She left her scooter where it was and Mikaela put away the information that yes, she would have to come back for it later.

The sky was colored twilight and looked so peaceful to her on her way home.


	2. the catalysts

huzzah chpt. 2. thank you for your reviews my first chp. and i hope you enjoy this chpt too.

* * *

When Mikaela woke up to a blaring alarm clock, she felt like one enormous bruise. Rolling out of her bed was a hassle, and she almost fell again when her leg got tangled in a bed sheet. Cursing and muttering, she slammed on the top of her alarm clock before hobbling her way to the bathroom. Usually, she would make her bed before going about her early morning routines – today was different. The covers were a mess and were left that way.

Relieving herself, she looked up at the mirror slowly; as though hesitant to meet her reflection. She was right to be so.

Yellow, green and purple discolorations were spread across her face like a five year olds canvas. Her jaw was mostly bruised, though her left cheek had taken quite a beating as well and a cut above her brow from when she left presumably was swollen and red. Mikaela prodded at it cautiously before hissing. It was festering with infection.

Opening the medicine cabinet, she applied hydrogen peroxide on the slice gently, even though she nearly yelled from the pain. She dried it with a square of toilet paper and balled the trash before throwing it away in the little trash bin.

She gripped the edge of the bathroom sink counter and stared hard at her reflection until her knuckles were white.

First things first.

Mikaela grabbed a towel from her towel rack and ran the hot water. Going back to her bedroom, she grabbed her underwear and selected a light sage turtle necked sweater and black jeans. The bathroom felt warmer and Mikaela carefully peeled off her night clothes – a big shirt and shorts before getting in.

As with the norm, she scrubbed everything not bruised pink and washed her hair vigorously. Steam had collected in the bathroom to the point of a fog.

Turning the shower off, she grabbed for her towel and dried off, patting at the bruises on her ribs and midsection tenderly. Everything still hurt, even though the hot water had soothed it to some minimal point.

Smacking a little circular Band-Aid on the cut over her brow, she blow dried her hair and started thinking carefully. She'd leave it down today and style it so it would cover the nick over her brow. She wasn't going to use makeup on it since it was already infected. Brushing and using the curling iron, her longer bangs fell over the cut in soft, curled waves. She left it like that and was vaguely pleased of the alternate she chose.

She dressed then – not in her usual appearance, with a skirt or shorts and a nice blouse or a short sleeved shirt. This was the best way to cover the bruises and not look suspicious because wearing a coat in May would.

The most important task was at hand when Mikaela returned to the bathroom and pulled out a couple of makeup kits. Cover up mostly and since she had on a turtle sweater (it was cute, so she could look cute and not sexy today) she could use a light blush to help hide the bruise on her cheek.

Nearly forty five minutes was spent applying cover up and minimal amounts of powder to her face – more makeup than she liked in all seriousness but it was needed for a no questions, no suspicions case.

Since she didn't have use of her scooter at the moment, she was going to have to walk, which meant wrapping her ankle. At the very least, she had a wrap which she had used a lot when she'd been in soccer.

She only had time for a glass of orange juice and a Poptart before she left in a pair of cutesy white and green sneakers with her breakfast in her mouth and backpack over her shoulders.

She was tempted to call Sam, because it was hard attempting to walk normally on her ankle. She was tempted but she squashed it. She couldn't. It wasn't from any sort of pride, it was just odd that she would call for a ride in the morning and Sam being Sam, he would ask questions that she wouldn't be able to lie about very well because Bee would know and then tell Sam.

It would be a vicious circle she'd rather not enter. With those cheery thoughts in mind, she started in on her Poptart.

* * *

Driving through the highway, Barricade found it unfortunate that he was driving back to Tranquility considering the Autobots were there, but he'd run into another one and the punk had nearly decapitated him. He needed to make peace, however unfortunate that was. There were no plots behind the truce he wanted to call either. He'd like to not be hunted down, if that were possible.

He knew that the Autobots were a sentimental and naïve bunch with a few exceptions.

Barricade turned into the Exit lane that would eventually lead to Tranquility.

He couldn't just go up to them and lay his weaponry down and call a truce. He'd have to prove himself before any of that, maybe save a kitty stuck in a tree or something. Even though he was almost fully positive that Optimus Prime, being the compassionate sap he was, would agree to the truce, he wasn't so sure the rest of the squad would. Leader or no – they would be rightfully wary and probably keep constant tabs on him.

He'd rather not have some annoyingly goody-good follow him around everywhere.

Behind him, a horn honked and the engine revved. Barricade felt his shocks lift in slight excitement. A race perhaps?

A young male human in the silver BMW Z4 GT swerved around him and flipped him off before speeding off. Barricade waited until the car was a few cars ahead of him before revving and gunning it.

Sliding dangerously between a semi and a clunky old Buick, both of which honked and the Buick swerved to the side. Barricade rode the tail of an SUV before the small car to his left slowed and he moved to the other lane without a blinker. The small car; a little white Corolla braked too quickly and was rear ended by a powerful Hummer behind it.

Barricade laughed darkly, a scratchy metallic one. Just because he was calling a truce between he and the Goodies didn't mean he wasn't going to have some fun before he was put on a self lockdown.

Barricade spotted the human, caught behind a tow truck. Slowing a little, he waited until the human would inevitably get fed up with the moderate speed.

He did. Stupid human boy didn't know he was being hunted.

Barricade revved and screeched before throwing his sirens on. People around him slowed a little. Not much, but enough to make for an easier way through. The whooping noise caught the attention of the human who didn't disappoint Barricade.

The little human thought he and his little vehicle could make a quick getaway.

The Saleen Mustang revved and moved in front of a van that braked, swerved and caused a small block in the road that a Pontiac hit the rear of. Gunning it to a quick 90, Barricade was catching up.

Cars around him were getting nervous, slowing down and moving away, giving him nearly two whole lanes to himself and the little glitch in front of him.

The human was doing well over 90, and might be panicking. Barricade wished Frenzy was there so that the little bot could do a faraway diagnostic reading on the human. Gunning it, the phony cop car was doing 120 mph and was close enough to the BMW to tap the rear.

So he did.

Pushing a little over 120, he tapped the rear and chuckled evilly when the car swerved – dangerous at this speed for the human. The BMW changed lanes and Barricade kept up the speed, matching the BMW's stride. The human did a quick glance at the car. Barricade had put up his hologram, a human mustached officer eating a sandwich.

Barricade saw the human's face turn another color and his jaw drop. He felt amusement run through his circuits. The Mustang slowed and changed lanes to be in a position behind the BMW. They kept at the slower speed of 60 for a long while, and Barricade had even switched the sirens off.

He waited, occasionally revving to watch the BMW give a start.

Then he made his move, probably the last bit of fun he'd have for a while.

Barricade revved and sped up to tap the bumper and then changed lanes to match the BMW. He leaned into the BMW's lanes until his side was scraping the driver's car door. The human was yelling now and Barricade waited. The human flipped him off.

Barricade sped up, so his side scraped the entire car. He slammed into the BMW with the force of a linebacker to a bookworm. The little BMW and the human never had a chance.

The human swerved and collided with the tow truck he'd cut off earlier.

The Saleen Mustang pulled off into another exit while enjoying the small pileup and destruction he'd left behind.


	3. history of a fellowship

this chapter will seem very extreme, considering but cruelty is universal even to us kids. i know mikaela wouldn't do this and it's very ooc, but for the plotline i needed to mold her a little out of character. sorry for the terrible inconvenience and i hope you enoy.

* * *

When she got to school, she knew what to expect and boy did it happen. The less popular kids didn't know what was going on, but they sensed animosity and moved away. Amber, Christy and Alex aka Big Red stood at the gates, smiling sugar-sweet at her. They waved their long manicured fingers at her, so ladylike that it was almost impossible to picture them as the wolves they really were.

Amber gave Mikaela a wink and flipped her pretty glossy blonde hair then sauntering off. Christy waved and Big Red smirked at the brunette before both girls turned to follow her.

It was hard to believe that the four of them had been friends at one point for a while.

Mikaela had been a part of their group. Pretty, smart, wanted and adored in one shape or another.

Amber, the sexy one every guy wanted and every girl wanted to be (who had an abusive drunk for a step-father and a mother in love with who she thought was a good man).

Christy who was the sweetest looking and the cute, ditzy voice anyone would listen to (who had abandonment issues and was obsessed with becoming her late sister – the daughter her parents loved).

Alex aka "Big Red" who was the pretty athletic girl that everyone wanted to be friends with (whose parents treated her like a prized Thoroughbred even though she hated sports and threw up before the events).

Then, finally Mikaela who was a pretty gear head and was nice to even the unpopular people (with a jailed father and a mother who pulled Houdinis).

The popular people had their troubles. But, as Amber had first told her, "Those problems go away when we're here. We're gods here. They worship us. So we have to pretend to be perfect or all that goes away and then we're normal again. Understand?"

It felt good. Mikaela wouldn't deny that being popular and at times a total full throttle bitch had its perks. People weren't just afraid – they loved you for just saying a passing "Hi" in the hallways. People offered you goodies; they took the blame for you just so you'd smile at them, talk to them a little.

Amber was right. They did worship you because you were pretty, smart and you appealed to the public because to them, you were what everyone wanted to be. You had everything.

So, going out with Trent was just another step up in the hierarchy. Trent was hot. He worked out a lot and had the muscles to prove it. He was the school favorite and even teachers cut him breaks because he was a fantastic athlete. Mikaela, contrary to life outside of school, had only improved.

Outside of school, she didn't have real friends. She had the plastic Barbie doll ones that went to clubs with her and made fake IDs, the ones she went shoplifting with. The ones who helped her steal cars when her family was in the pits.

It brought her back to when they first became friends, if they could be called that.

Their friendship was twisted, to say the least.

Mikaela had first caught Big Red in the act, throwing up in the bathroom before a soccer game. Big Red had seen her and threw her against a wall, her powerfully built arms crushing her windpipe and hurting her shoulder. "Tell anyone and I'll trash you." The words were venomous and Mikaela understood. She wouldn't have understood if Big Red hadn't threatened her immediately.

Amber was the next one Mikaela caught. When passing her home, before she could afford anything, she saw the blonde slam the front door. A man who was balding and had stains on a white tank top yanked the door open and snarled, "Don't you walk away from me you ungrateful shit!" he threw the empty beer bottle at Amber, who had managed to dodge it.

Amber kept walking even though the man, obviously her step-father kept snarling at her. From across the street Mikaela stared.

Amber stopped, met Mikaela's eyes and there was a moment of fright. There had been a witness to an imperfect, possibly weak and ugly person.

What happened the next day, after Mikaela had seen Amber, was that the three girls were waiting outside her house. What followed was an interrogation and Amber had connected the dots. Not only was her father a convict, but her mother consistently abandoned her. They could report her, or let her eat leftovers from Chinese kitchens.

Amber and Big Red said that mostly everyone suspected she stole cars, though Mikaela had no idea how they figured that, so they said – "We'll help get you out of this shithole." They did. While Mikaela hotwired, Amber was a decoy and Big Red kept watch.

Christy invited her over to her folks' house that was always empty since her parents were usually gone, when Mikaela was really hard up. Mikaela had to sleep in the same bed as her though, since Christy was paranoid enough to think Mikaela would be gone by morning.

Their friendship had been established, and Mikaela's climb up the social ladder began.

She didn't think her life would get any better than this, so she stuck with it.

After Mission City and Sam though, what she'd learned and self-taught had crumbled. Sam was dorky. Sam liked her. Sam really, really liked her personality. Sam was funny in his own awkward way and sweet. He was cute.

He gave Mikaela her own identity, her own person, but effectively ruined her familiar life.

Popularity seemed wrong, so did stealing even if you needed to was wrong and not being yourself was wrong. The Autobots helped to set those new grounds for Mikaela too. It made her feel happy, to be liked for a girl who liked cars and liked to fix cars (and apparently giant robot aliens).

Her newfound epiphany didn't help her here. In this territory it was blend or be crushed. No wonder Sam was socially inept.

The jocks, the pretty no-brainers, the easy girls and guys all looked at her like she was a new kid. An outsider. She was, and she knew she was. Mikaela Banes the pretty popular gear head girlfriend of Trent didn't exist. Mikaela Banes the freak was new in town.

Conversations around her had her name in them even though she wasn't a part of them, stares and giggles were sent her way. Girls bumped into her shoulder gently, a brush – not those testosterone driven ones guys who hated other guys gave each other. It was a light brush that in girl-lingo meant gentle threats, barely there threats.

It meant that they could attack, or they could be bluffing.

She hung around Sam, and dealt with Miles' apparent dislike of her. Miles was worried for Sam, which was understandable considering what the circumstances must have been. The circumstances had long since changed. She had no one but Sam and the Autobots. She didn't care if Miles thought she should shove off.

The day wore on like this.

Mikaela was expecting a humiliation attack but none came. When the bell had rung, she was tense. If they weren't going to humiliate her, throw rotten tomatoes or dump fish guts or bad meat on her, then there was only one course of action they were going to take.

Once, there was a girl who always braided her hair and had glasses and braces. Amber, in a bitchy and pissed off mood had poured chocolate milk down the girl's white shirt when she'd accidentally bumped into the blonde.

The girl had slapped Amber back, in a defiant record.

The next day, when the girl had been going to her new red Echo, Amber had used a cloth covered in alcohol on her. Mikaela had gotten the call at six in the evening from Amber, "Mikaela, get your ass down at the old warehouse now."

Mikaela had gone because Amber had hung up on her and wouldn't answer her cell. There they were, surrounding the Echo in the empty parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse not far from the school. Amber, Christy and Big Red all standing around the red Echo that had its trunk open. About to ask what the hell was going on, Big Red threw car keys at her.

"What the hell?" she inquired, confused. No verbal answer responded.

Christy whose face was usually bright and smiling was solemn as she pointed grimly to the trunk. Mikaela had looked in to see the girl who had slapped Amber tied up and knocked out. She had freaked out, until Big Red tackled her against the car and held her mouth shut.

Amber got close enough to touch noses. "Drive her far out. And leave the keys in the trunk when you're done."

Mikaela was floored. "Leave her? In the trunk? Fuck you I'm not doing any crazy shit like that. I'm not evil." She would've walked off if Big Red wasn't still holding her.

Amber's mouth twisted, "We are bound by our secrets, precious. You don't do this, we go to the authorities, and you go to juvie. Again."

"You don't have any proof." Mikaela wasn't going to say she was bluffing, because Amber would never bluff.

Amber reached into her tank-purse to withdraw a videotape. "It's the parking garage you raided the other day. Christy snagged it while the security was…busy." She smiled and waved the tape at her.

Mikaela wasn't stupid. She knew why Amber wouldn't do it herself – this was a trial Big Red, Christy and Amber herself had to go through. The trial that let them know the lines of their 'friendship'. "How's she gonna get out?"

Amber pointed at the keys. "There's a trunk popper on it. She'll freak out, then figure it out. God, we're not gonna kill her."

_Could've fooled me_. Big Red let her go. "I'll follow in my dad's pickup, and we can go home when this is done." Big Red's smile was large and showed her teeth.

Amber smiled, and curled her fingers around Mikaela's in a sick parody of comfort. "Drive her far out, leave the keys with her and that's it. No harm done. Just a little fun to ensure that she knows what's what. Harmless, you know?" her sugar voice made Mikaela cringe. She ripped her hand away from Amber and started the Echo after Big Red slammed the trunk closed.

Mikaela drove the girl out to the middle of nowhere and made sure that she was still out. She was. She'd parked far away from the highway so that the Echo wouldn't be crashed into, or anything. The keys were dropped near her hands which were bound but her feet weren't. As an afterthought, Mikaela cut the bonds off with the little Swiss Army knife she had and saw Big Red watching her. Her red hair was like fire in the pickup's headlights. There was no disappointment, or judgment. This was what it was.

Big Red had insisted on grabbing something to eat. They'd pulled into a late night diner where they served enormous burgers and the best fries in town.

"And, you know. You're not evil or anything for doing this. Amber was shitting when she said she had the tape."

"That still makes me scum. Makes me…inhuman for doing this to that poor girl." Mikaela retorted, barely having eaten her burger.

Big Red shrugged and devoured her burger. "You were doing what you could to survive. Just like you did when you agreed that me 'n Amber were gonna help you steal cars so you could pay bills. So you could eat. There's no evil in that."

"Then what about Amber?" Mikaela hissed.

Big Red shrugged. "Dunno, nobody really does."

After that, the conversation was cut off. Neither girl said anything. They finished eating and Big Red dropped Mikaela off at home. The brunette had gone straight to bed, but it was no use. She couldn't fall asleep. She felt too numb and her conscience was screaming; crying at her.

Mysteriously two days later, the girl named Miranda Parks had moved schools. No charges had been pressed. Not even a peep. Mikaela deduced that the girl probably hadn't seen Amber. She probably suspected her but it would only be a 'crying wolf' incident if she pointed the finger at her.

Now, Mikaela was frightened. Amber was ruthless. Amber was possessive of her friends. Amber was probably a sociopath, as Mikaela had come to decide.

Mikaela could only imagine what would be done to her – the girl who knew their secrets as well as her own. The bell rang and she went looking for Sam. He could drive her home and she could lock her doors and shut her windows.

She stopped and saw Christy at one end of the hall, waiting at the door for her. The little blonde waved. She turned and saw a tall figure, powerfully built and fire red hair waiting at the other end. Coming out of the classroom across of where she was, Amber made her grand appearance.

Mikaela was sick to her stomach that she could identify these horrid girls. That she would never be able to scrub their names and faces away. She could try to just say in her mind; the blonde, the other blonde and the redhead. It wouldn't work. It was automatic. She knew them. She was, as much as she hated it, a part of them and she always would be.

She was one of these horrible people – ugly and imperfect and just trying to be better than everyone else like that.

People like them had to stick together, just like Big Red said. Other people would estrange themselves. She'd said, "We'll always be best friends because we know each other like the backs of our hands – whether we want to or not."

Amber smiled and Mikaela felt like her heart would stop.

Bound by their secrets indeed.


End file.
